Waiting For You
by KnightlyWordsmith
Summary: Alistair waits outside the Deep Roads. For what, he's not quite sure.


**A/N-**

So, I've only played Origins so far, but have some sappy Alistair/Warden stuff anyway, because why not, eh?

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He would wait outside the great gates, facing into its wide, gaping maw. He'd feel it's cold breath suck the warmth out of him, the same way its darkness sucked in all of the surrounding light. He would wait and wait, feeling an ever growing sense of foreboding. An ever growing darkness emanated, not from around him, but from within himself. Strange in a land with no sun, but with each passing day the nights seemed to grow longer.

When the nightmares had first returned, when he had first felt that that cold darkness inside, he'd left. He'd thought it was his time.

Once he arrived, something held him back. He'd been sure he was ready to move on, but when he first stood in front of the dark opening he realized he wasn't. Not quite yet.

It was after three weeks of long waiting that she arrived.

It couldn't have been more than a handful of years since he had last seen her, but those few years were etched deeply on her face.

Silver swaths now streaked her hair. Faint creases lined her forehead even though she wasn't frowning. Crow's feet webbed from the corners of her eyes, though he doubted they were laugh lines. Their lives had been filled with too much horror. Too much sorrow.

And her eyes themselves. They were darker, hooded. There was something in them that he'd seen too much of lately. That same thing that stared back at him from his own reflection.

They'd both been kept busy, kept apart. Ruling a kingdom, and defending it from its darkest enemies. Yet somehow here they both were. Somehow, despite the years that had passed since they adventured together, he'd been compelled to wait for her.

"My, my Alistair." Her voice hadn't changed despite her outwardly appearance. Still rich and full, but with a lightness to it that seemed almost out of place. "You look even older than I do," her eyes crinkled. Maybe some of those crow's feet were laugh lines after all.

"Ruling a kingdom. Raising two children," he waved a vague hand. "Tends to wear you out." He almost added "It would have been easier facing another Blight", but given the circumstances decided it was best not to. His attempt at humour may not be appreciated at the moment.

Her lips which had been raised in a small smile fell slightly. "I wouldn't know." There was something wistful in her voice. Something soft and lost. It echoed in a place deep inside him; gave a flicker of life to a fire he'd long since convinced himself was dead and gone.

She wasn't talking about ruling a kingdom.

"I'm sorry I never got to Denerim to see them, your children that is." The sincerity in her voice surprised him, but was welcoming in its own right. Had he thought she would be resentful? Worse, did part of him want her to be?

He tucked those types of thoughts away. It had been too long since he's seen her, and they wouldn't have much time left together. No point in squandering what was left with would haves and should haves.

Instead he plastered a grin on his face. A big, wide, beaming smile that at one time had always been able to elicit a mirrored grin on her face. "Just picture me, thirty years younger, and with a lot more hair, as they're both girls," he replied. "They're the spitting image of me."

"Oh no," her voice was grave, but there was a telltale tug on the corner of her upper lip. "Don't tell me you gave two poor little girls that nose."

He cracked up. Laughed loud and clean. She laughed along with him. Those were definitely laugh lines. They must have been. Maybe the years had treated her better than he'd feared.

"Point and all," he added, when he regained control of his breathing. He flicked the tip of his nose for added measure.

"I see you haven't stopped playing the fool." From someone else the words may have seemed mean. In fact, Alistair could distinctly picture another woman, a witch with jet black hair, saying something much the same, but leaden with scorn. He knew the woman standing before him was only teasing.

He'd missed her teasing.

"Someone has to do it," he replied. "Otherwise everything would just be doom and gloom all the time."

His words seemed to echo through the cavern with greater force than they had any right to. The sound was swallowed up by the great opening before them, and Alistair found himself looking at it once more. Beside him, the woman was gazing into its depths as well. He had no doubt that she was feeling drawn to it the same as he was.

She was the first to turn from the darkness. "You look tired," she broke the silence quietly. Her eyes searched his face. Part of him wanted to hide from her probing gaze. "You waited for me," she said finally.

Was he still really that transparent to her? He would have thought that after so many years spent mostly apart she would have lost that discerning ability of hers. At least in regards to himself.

But of course he'd waited for her. Of course that was the reason behind his delay. He could have told himself that long ago, when he first made it to this gaping hole in the ground.

Something heavy stuck in his throat. He worked around it to say softly, "It just wasn't my time." He stood straighter and met her steady gaze. He could feel it now, feel it for real. Since his first nightmares had returned, he'd never felt it as strongly as he did now. It was finally time. "But you're here now, and I'm ready to follow you into battle. One last time."

She paused and looked back at the darkness before them.

While she eyed the darkness he looked at her, took in everything about her in that one, long, moment.

The dark of the opening, her standing strong and resolute before it, bright in contrast.

Images flashed in his minds eye of her facing oncoming hordes of darkspawn in a similar manner. He saw her driving her sword through the neck of the monstrous Archdemon.

He saw softer, happier images as well. Watching her animatedly talk about armour in Wade's Emporium. Laughing in some dank, dusty tavern after they'd both had too much ale. Sitting beside her with the firelight playing off her features.

Still other images crept into his thoughts. Ones which he dared not dwell on, but were dark, and hot and full of whispered enticements.

She looked back to him, and he was jolted back into the here and now. "One last time," she echoed with finality.

He reached out for her silently. His hand stretched across the distance between them. As it hung there in space, he felt a twinge of doubt. Would she leave him there alone, reaching out forever?

Her hand clasped his own, her grip strong and steady. He met her gaze and felt that dead and withered flame flicker inside him again.

As one they turned and headed into the darkness.

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**A/N-** Hope y'all enjoyed it. Feel free to let me know what you thought, I'm a huge fan of constructive criticism.


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